The "Second Thanksgiving"--
a fictional letter of 800-plus words by EA Bundy, supposedly written by Mary Chilton to an assumed relative in England. (This letter is fabricated, but hopefully conveys somewhat accurately the circumstances of Plymouth Colony’s second Thanksgiving held during the summer of 1623, almost two years after their initial arrival.)
Mary Chilton’s letter:
Plimothe—July the 30th, in the year of our Lorde, 1623--
My deareste Abigaile,
Thank you for youre thoughtfull lettere. How much I do mis you, and others of my cherished relatives. I hope this missive findes you well. Todaye is our second Thanksgiving. We did not have one last yeare due to poore crops. This yeare, we have sufferede grately from a droughte, but with the grace of God—and aftere Elder William Brewster caused us to praye without ceasing, plus we all fasted for an entire daye—the blessede raines caime. Likewise, we received word of a shippe sent by our backers, the Merchant Adventurers, and hopefully the supplies we so desperateley neade. There have beene many such vesseles in these two yeares past, but most have not brought us the promised stores of goodes. Instead, they have carried to us more new colonists to replace those we have loste. Additional mouths we must somehow feede.
When Mr. William Bradford, oure esteemede Governor, did see how God has answerede our call for helpe, he declared this day to be one of Thanksgiving. That is unique. As, before this, it was our religious leader, Elder William Brewster, who proclaimed such an event. Mistere Bradford has made us holde to the tighteste of rationes these many long weekes. Our plighte was trully diyere, but the rationing order is now lifted, praise be to God!
We are numberede well over one hundred soules (some say over one hundred and fifty) counting bothe those of us Saintes, and those who are amongst us—who are still Strangers to the righteous pathe of Hollyness.
Young Richard More, the orffaned lad I have mentionede, is now eight years olde, and indentured to Elder William Brewster. Living in that sanctified household makes him like-unto one of us, and I think one daye he will declare himselfe a Sainte. He has so many questiones, though. We walked together on Cole’s Hill, Richard and I, in the area of the unmarked graves. His siblings and my parents are buried there, but no one can say for certaine exactly where they lie. Richard has so many questiones conserning that, and his faithe is not yet fully developed, so I try to explaine as best I can.
Richard asks me how we know the ship we receivede word about will realley come in the next dayes, and does it indeede carrey the supplies we must have for survivale? The natives also watch us to see how this turns out. In their minds, it is a test of our God—to determine if He really wille provide for us. Theye wondere that we seeme to squandere what little we have remaining of our stores. Our faithe is all we realley neede, praise be to God! They also watch closely the great pallisade designed and overseen by my benefactor, Miles Standish, our military leadere. Those protective walls now surrounde all our dwellinges. Mr. Standish has led two raids against the heathens. The first was in support of the mightey leader, Massasoit of the Wampanoags, our allys, which action gained us greate favour in their eyes. The subsequent attack on a native village, how’ere, caused even our allies to flee frome us in feare. Nowe, we struggle to trade for furs to pay our great debte to our sponsors. The first such shipmente was sente by us on the Fortune, which brought us so little in the way of supplies, yet added 38 settleres in late November, in the yeare of our Lorde, 1621. It, howe’ere, was captured by the French, while returning home, greatly increasing our concerns as regards the lost furs, and our ever-increasing debtes.
My dearest Abigaile, you asked why we did not remain in Leiden, and a fewe amongst us wondere that as well, but Elder William Brewster has reminded them how the un-Godlyness was growing amongst we Saintes. Many of our youngsteres spoke much less often in Englishe, and began to act as the Strangeres there behavede. Also, we feared reprisal by the King of England, even though we were in a foryn lande, for the doubtless true, but seemingley unkinde, words Eldere Brewster had printed about the monarke.
Today, Eldere Brewster saide many goode words about Governore William Bradford’s decision to give some propertie to those who had none. There is also talk that our esteemed governore will marry the widow Alice Carpenter Southworth. He lost his deare wife overboard before we first landed here at Plimothe.
On a happier note, also today, I met John Winslow, brother of our coloney’s original member, Edward Winslow. He seems a fyne fellowe, John does, and he was well interested to hear of my survival in this, what he termes, “Often harsh lande.”
I must close for now, Deare Abigaile, but I give thanks for oure goode fortune—thanks be to God—and I praye that some or all of you may one day join us. It is rumored that Elder Brewster’s daughters, Fear & Patience, may be on the supply ship that is soon to come. His son, Jonathan, joined us after our firste Thanksgiving, when the vessele Fortune brought him to our shores.
With greateste devotion, from a humble servante of our Lorde, I bid you fare-the-well, Abigaile.
Yours in the One True Faithe,
Mary Chilton
[Author’s note: Plymouth Colony’s longed for arrival of the supply ship Ann was fulfilled when it did appear the very next day after their second Thanksgiving celebration. Included among the passengers were Elder William Brewster’s daughters, Fear and Patience. With the new influx of settlers, the estimated population of the colony rose to 180 people (twice the number who’d arrived in 1620, and more than three times the number who had survived that first winter). The rains, which had begun just before Thanksgiving, lasted for two weeks, and eventually resulted in a bounteous harvest. Mary Chilton married John Winslow, about one year later, probably in October of 1624, at the age of sixteen. EAB]
a fictional letter of 800-plus words by EA Bundy, supposedly written by Mary Chilton to an assumed relative in England. (This letter is fabricated, but hopefully conveys somewhat accurately the circumstances of Plymouth Colony’s second Thanksgiving held during the summer of 1623, almost two years after their initial arrival.)
Mary Chilton’s letter:
Plimothe—July the 30th, in the year of our Lorde, 1623--
My deareste Abigaile,
Thank you for youre thoughtfull lettere. How much I do mis you, and others of my cherished relatives. I hope this missive findes you well. Todaye is our second Thanksgiving. We did not have one last yeare due to poore crops. This yeare, we have sufferede grately from a droughte, but with the grace of God—and aftere Elder William Brewster caused us to praye without ceasing, plus we all fasted for an entire daye—the blessede raines caime. Likewise, we received word of a shippe sent by our backers, the Merchant Adventurers, and hopefully the supplies we so desperateley neade. There have beene many such vesseles in these two yeares past, but most have not brought us the promised stores of goodes. Instead, they have carried to us more new colonists to replace those we have loste. Additional mouths we must somehow feede.
When Mr. William Bradford, oure esteemede Governor, did see how God has answerede our call for helpe, he declared this day to be one of Thanksgiving. That is unique. As, before this, it was our religious leader, Elder William Brewster, who proclaimed such an event. Mistere Bradford has made us holde to the tighteste of rationes these many long weekes. Our plighte was trully diyere, but the rationing order is now lifted, praise be to God!
We are numberede well over one hundred soules (some say over one hundred and fifty) counting bothe those of us Saintes, and those who are amongst us—who are still Strangers to the righteous pathe of Hollyness.
Young Richard More, the orffaned lad I have mentionede, is now eight years olde, and indentured to Elder William Brewster. Living in that sanctified household makes him like-unto one of us, and I think one daye he will declare himselfe a Sainte. He has so many questiones, though. We walked together on Cole’s Hill, Richard and I, in the area of the unmarked graves. His siblings and my parents are buried there, but no one can say for certaine exactly where they lie. Richard has so many questiones conserning that, and his faithe is not yet fully developed, so I try to explaine as best I can.
Richard asks me how we know the ship we receivede word about will realley come in the next dayes, and does it indeede carrey the supplies we must have for survivale? The natives also watch us to see how this turns out. In their minds, it is a test of our God—to determine if He really wille provide for us. Theye wondere that we seeme to squandere what little we have remaining of our stores. Our faithe is all we realley neede, praise be to God! They also watch closely the great pallisade designed and overseen by my benefactor, Miles Standish, our military leadere. Those protective walls now surrounde all our dwellinges. Mr. Standish has led two raids against the heathens. The first was in support of the mightey leader, Massasoit of the Wampanoags, our allys, which action gained us greate favour in their eyes. The subsequent attack on a native village, how’ere, caused even our allies to flee frome us in feare. Nowe, we struggle to trade for furs to pay our great debte to our sponsors. The first such shipmente was sente by us on the Fortune, which brought us so little in the way of supplies, yet added 38 settleres in late November, in the yeare of our Lorde, 1621. It, howe’ere, was captured by the French, while returning home, greatly increasing our concerns as regards the lost furs, and our ever-increasing debtes.
My dearest Abigaile, you asked why we did not remain in Leiden, and a fewe amongst us wondere that as well, but Elder William Brewster has reminded them how the un-Godlyness was growing amongst we Saintes. Many of our youngsteres spoke much less often in Englishe, and began to act as the Strangeres there behavede. Also, we feared reprisal by the King of England, even though we were in a foryn lande, for the doubtless true, but seemingley unkinde, words Eldere Brewster had printed about the monarke.
Today, Eldere Brewster saide many goode words about Governore William Bradford’s decision to give some propertie to those who had none. There is also talk that our esteemed governore will marry the widow Alice Carpenter Southworth. He lost his deare wife overboard before we first landed here at Plimothe.
On a happier note, also today, I met John Winslow, brother of our coloney’s original member, Edward Winslow. He seems a fyne fellowe, John does, and he was well interested to hear of my survival in this, what he termes, “Often harsh lande.”
I must close for now, Deare Abigaile, but I give thanks for oure goode fortune—thanks be to God—and I praye that some or all of you may one day join us. It is rumored that Elder Brewster’s daughters, Fear & Patience, may be on the supply ship that is soon to come. His son, Jonathan, joined us after our firste Thanksgiving, when the vessele Fortune brought him to our shores.
With greateste devotion, from a humble servante of our Lorde, I bid you fare-the-well, Abigaile.
Yours in the One True Faithe,
Mary Chilton
[Author’s note: Plymouth Colony’s longed for arrival of the supply ship Ann was fulfilled when it did appear the very next day after their second Thanksgiving celebration. Included among the passengers were Elder William Brewster’s daughters, Fear and Patience. With the new influx of settlers, the estimated population of the colony rose to 180 people (twice the number who’d arrived in 1620, and more than three times the number who had survived that first winter). The rains, which had begun just before Thanksgiving, lasted for two weeks, and eventually resulted in a bounteous harvest. Mary Chilton married John Winslow, about one year later, probably in October of 1624, at the age of sixteen. EAB]